


Of First Dates and Not So First Kisses

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [7]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, It's coming, No pun intended, OR IS IT, edited at 5 am, i have cavities in my heart, i'm definitely going to do future pieces where their pairing is more overt, take that for what you will, the cablepool is kind of vague, this is so fluffy, you kinda have to squint to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You go on your first date with your wonderful boyfriend, the metal man himself, Piotr Rasputin.That's it. This fluff that I edited at five in the morning during an insomnia bender.Enjoy, my lovelies.(Set post "Myshka" and partially pre "Dig the Needle In.")





	Of First Dates and Not So First Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Holy tits. Okay.
> 
> Thank y'all so much for your support/indulgence of my latest hyperfixation! I was not expecting a response anywhere close to this enthusiastic. I'm also amused like the little shit I am because I've never watched any X-Men or Deadpool movies, so...  
> yeah. Mildly pleased with myself.
> 
> But, yes. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> If you want to know more about me, the other works I have planned for this series, or just want to sigh wistfully over Colossus with me (or any of the other characters from the MCU/Deadpool Movieverse, because hot damn Gina Carano's Angel Dust can GET IT) feel free to hit me up on my Tumblr: https://www.master-sass-blast.tumblr.com.
> 
> Also, I have an Okoye x M'Baku fanfic called Strong as Stone that's also on this site. You can find it in the Black Panther category or by clicking around on my profile! If you want to see what my writing looks like in other settings, feel free to check it out!
> 
> Anyway, you didn't come here for my sleep-deprivation induced ramblings. You're here for the fluff, so that's what I'm going to give you.
> 
> Let's get on to the story, shall we?

“No! I refuse to accept this!”

You roll your eyes as Wade flails around dramatically. “Wade, unless your real mutation is bending reality and the subjects therein to your will, you have to accept it.”

“This is art!  _Art_!”

“No, this--” You point at the TV screen, which is currently playing a rerun of  _Desperate Housewives_  “--is garbage. Hot, shitty, nasty garbage.”

“Okay, apparently my efforts to reverse your parents’ brainwashing haven’t been as effective as I thought, because there’s no way any sane person in total control of their faculties would say something like that!”

You roll your eyes. Again. “No, Wade, I’m just not stupid enough to believe that daytime drama TV is entertaining.” Before your best friend can start in on another tirade, you add, “And, I mean, come on. If there’s anyone you should be showing this, it’s Cable. They don’t even  _have_  TV in the future, Wade. I at least got to experience it for a couple years before my dad got rid of our television set. Point stands, Cable’s situation is far more dire than mine.”

Wade perks up, and it’s obvious from the look on his face that he’s actually buying in to your distraction.

“Besides,” You continue, laying on the persuasion extra thick. “What an excellent opportunity! The two of you, on the couch, watching TV together; it’s practically a quasi-date!”

Wade falters. “Yeah, because everyone’s just lining up to date this face,” he grumbles bitterly.

“Fine.” You switch tactics like the master con artist you are. “Don’t think of it as a date. Just think of it as an opportunity to fill his brain with tons of bullshit about this century while tormenting him with shitty reality drama.”

That does it --because if there’s one thing that motivates Wade more than his Texas-sized crush on Nathan Summers, it’s an opportunity to be an unrepentant asshole. He bounds off to the kitchen --where Nathan is conveniently in the middle of making a sandwich--and loops his arms around the older man’s neck while gushing about ‘quality time’ and ‘historical education.’

You take the opportunity to make your escape --blowing a kiss at Cable when he glares at you, though it’s worth noting that he’s letting Wade lead him to the rec room without too much complaining--and head off in search of your boyfriend, Piotr.

He isn’t in his room, nor is he in the training room. It’s Saturday, so he’s not teaching, and he isn’t grading or lesson planning in one of his classrooms.

A smile lights up your face when you realize where he must be, and you scamper off towards one of the unfinished expansion wings on the mansion.

 

* * *

One of the ongoing goals at Xavier’s is that of expansion --taking in more mutants, reaching more people with the truth about mutants, extending their reach to an international level so they could help mutants around the world... the list goes on and on, but the immediate effects of that mission often manifest in upgrading the mansion or other X-Men facilities.

You walk through the unfinished wing, taking time to relish the unfiltered sunlight and the natural, homey feeling of the space.

The wing, once done, is supposed to serve as extra classrooms for the ever growing group of mutant students and kids that lived at the mansion. However, at your loving badgering, Piotr had asked for an art studio.

It was multi-purposed, he insisted. He could use it for himself, yes, but he also could use it for his students. At any rate, the studio was approved.

Now, he uses it mostly as his personal, private get away whenever the mansion gets too chaotic --one that, according to him, you’re welcome in any time as long as you don’t bring Wade.

You walk up to one of the few doors on its hinges --lovingly painted and decorated with the hand prints of Piotr’s art students--and poke your head into the room.

He’s sitting in an overstuffed arm chair positioned by one of the windows, sketchbook in his lap and face tense with concentration. He looks up when you close the door behind you, and absolutely beams at the sight of you. “ _Privet, myshka_.”

You grin back, unable to resist his infectious happiness. “Hey, big guy.” Your heart hammers in your chest as you walk over to his chair and press a kiss against his lips. It’s only been a few weeks since the two of you decided to get together, and you’re still swept away with giddy energy every time you get to do something remotely couple-y with him.

He smiles up at you, cheeks flushed and face glowing with bashful exhilaration, when you break the kiss. “Is there any particular reason why you’re here?”

“Actually, yeah. I had to escape Wade; he was trying to make me watch garbage TV again.” You sit down on the armrest of the chair and grin at him. “I managed to sic him onto Cable, though. With any luck, he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Piotr lets out a breathy laugh. “That was devious of you,  _myshka_. I’m not sure Cable deserved that.”

“Hey, he’s just as capable of punching Wade in the face and walking away as anyone else is. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he actually  _likes_  spending time with him.”

Your boyfriend simply shakes his head --he’s still smiling though, which means he finds your antics amusing rather than disapproval-worthy--and curls one of his massive hands around one of your considerably smaller ones. “Well, at any rate, I am glad you are here. I wanted to talk to you about something --it actually connects to ‘escapes,’ ironically enough.”

You cock your head to the side, beyond intrigued about whatever’s going to come out of his mouth next. “What’s up, big guy?”

He gazes down at your intertwined hands for a moment, gently running the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “I would... I would like to take you on date. Sometime this week.”

“...Really? You want to take me on a date?”

“ _Da._ I want to spend time with you... without others interrupting.”

Well, you’ll be fucked if you’re going to argue with that. You say as much --grinning impishly when Piotr gives you the ‘ _language’_ look--and lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “So, where are you gonna take me, handsome?”

“That is what I wanted to ask you about. I am... not sure where we should go --and you should have a say, too, since this is your first ever date.”

You swing your legs back and forth, heels knocking against the side of the chair as you consider your options. “I trust your instincts, Pete. I don’t think you could pick something that I wouldn’t like, considering that the main thing I want to do is spend time with you.” You can tell that the open-ended-ness of your answer makes him nervous, so you add in a few stipulations for his sake. “I guess... nothing to fancy or upscale. We could do that down the road, if you want, but I kind of just want to hang out and have a good time with you. And I’d rather not do anything at night, I guess. I’d just feel better if we were back here around dinner time.”

He nods --you know he’s taking all this seriously, it is  _him_  after all--and squeezes your hand. “Of course,  _dorogaya moya_. Whatever makes you comfortable. Perhaps... lunch date on Wednesday? I can show you some of parks and shops nearby?”

You grin, warm and unbelievably happy. “That sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

The rest of the remaining time until Wednesday is spent trying to nail down the perfect date outfit. You have a several hour consultation with Neena, Yukio, and Ellie --and Wade, because he refuses to be left out of anything--a couple days before the big event to decide what constitutes a good ‘daytime, causal but not too casual lunch date that also includes walking around together.’

Wade got as far as recommending his ‘hooker heels’ as your shoes of choice --Ellie smacked him across the back of the head for that--before Neena kicked him out and took over like the wonderful big sister figure she was.

In the end, the four of you had settled on a soft black t-shirt with a faded Guns’n’Roses logo on the front, a camouflage skirt that fell mid-thigh, a denim vest to go over the shirt, and a pair of low-rise black Converse (considerately loaned to you by Ellie).

You stand in front of your bathroom mirror, carefully tying a red bandanna around your head to act as a headband. Once you’re satisfied with its position, you check over your make up (natural, at Ellie’s suggestion).

You're unexpectedly nervous. You know Piotr’s not going to judge you --or dismiss you--for how you choose to dress, but you  _really_  want him to find you pretty. You’re fiddling with your hair when the sound of someone clearing their throat at you catches your attention.

Ellie’s standing in your bedroom, watching you with her usual stoic expression. “He’s ready for you.”

You nod, and let out a nervous huff. “Okay. Show time.”

“Relax. You look fine.” The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile. “Have fun.”

You flash her a thankful smile before you dart out of your room, snatching up your purse as you go. You hurry down the stairs and practically skip out the front door, any nervousness you might have felt far outweighed by the excitement running through your veins.

Piotr’s out on the front drive, leaning against a sleek black car that oozes power and ‘I’m more expensive than your college payments.’ He’s dressed in jeans, nice sneakers, and a light-blue short sleeved button down shirt that he’s tucked into his pants. He smiles, soft and warm, when you dash towards him. “You look nice,  _myshka_.”

“Thanks,” You say, a little breathless from your mad run out of the mansion. “Shall we go?”

He nods, bends to kiss your forehead, and opens your door like the consummate gentleman that he is. Once you’re safely tucked inside, he closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. “I thought,” he says as he buckles himself in, “we could start by walking through one of the parks.”

You grin and can’t help but shiver a little as the car rumbles to life. “Sounds awesome.”

 

* * *

He drives to a quaint town a little over half an hour away from the mansion. Piotr parks by a lush, quiet park at the edge of the town and immediately gets out of the car to get your door for you.

You smile as you step out and breath in the fresh summer air. The park is filled with different bushes, trees, and outcroppings of flowers. You can hear a stream gurgling nearby, and birds chirp overhead. “This is perfect, Piotr. It’s so beautiful here.”

“This is one of my favorite places to come and draw when mansion is too chaotic. Close enough to be safe, but far enough to, ah, avoid Wade.”

“He’s not all bad.”

“ _Nyet_. But he is... trying.”

You giggle up at him and latch on to his hand. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

The two of you amble through the park, not in any particular hurry to get anywhere. You’re happy to take your time, thoroughly relishing the way Piotr’s fingers sit so naturally between yours, how warm his hand is, the way his voice rumbles as the two of you talk, the soft, bashful smiles he keeps favoring you with whenever you look up at him...

It’s heaven, pure and simple.

“I can see why you like it here,” You say after a stretch of comfortable silence. “It’s peaceful. And gorgeous. What do you draw when you come here?”

“Landscapes, mostly, though I have started to sketch passersby as well.” He ducks his head and lets out a self-depreciating chuckle. “I am... not that talented with faces.”

“I’ve seen your sketch book, which leads me to believe that you’re probably selling yourself short.”

He shrugs and smiles at you. “Who can say? Art is subjective, after all.”

Eventually, you reach the end of the park and step into a stylish downtown area that boasts several locally owned shops and cafes. You meander down the streets with Piotr, stopping every so often to gaze through one of the windows or step inside and check out one of the stores. Your stomach starts gurgling after a while, to which Piotr chuckles and suggests that the two of you find some lunch.

You let him lead you down the street and into a sandwich shop, a mom and pop sort of a place. A college aged waitress with her hair pulled back into a ponytail greets the two of you with a sunny smile --though it’s largely directed at Piotr.

Not that you blame her, necessarily. Be honest. Who wouldn’t?

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she says as she picks up a couple menus. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten all about us.”

“Work was... hectic for a bit,” Piotr replies, tacitly side-stepping the fact that he’s a superhero and that his ‘work’ was babysitting a homicidal maniac.

“Story of my life. Who’s your friend? I don’t think I’ve seen her here before.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Piotr introduces you with a smile that absolutely glows. “I wanted to bring her here for our first date.”

The waitress’s sunny smile dims slightly, but she’s still polite. “Well, congratulations! I’ll make sure I sit you two somewhere a little more private so that you aren’t bothered by the noise or other patrons.”

You end up sitting at a table for two that’s by the front of the shop, out of the way of the incoming traffic. It’s well-lit, positioned by one of the store front windows, and provides an excellent view of the charming street outside. Your waitress takes your drink orders and leaves you with the menus, promising to return in a couple moments.

You peruse the menu at a leisurely pace, lulled into a temporary glowing calm by your time spent basking in his unfiltered affection. Fortunately, you know what you’re doing --the first time Wade took you off the mansion grounds you hadn’t had the foggiest idea of how to even order a meal for yourself. He’d taken it upon himself to catch you up on all the skills necessary to survive in the real world; as far as you’re concerned, it’s worked.

After a few minutes of studying, however, you come to the determination that you really don’t know what to order. None of the staples Wade’s introduced you to are on the menu, and --while everything looks good--you don’t know what to pick. You reach across the table and put your hand on Piotr’s. “Whats good here?”

“Everything. I usually order the grilled chicken and vegetable sandwich.”

You can’t help but grin. “Of course. Always the nutritionist.”

“It’s important to be healthy.”

“It is, it is. I’m not sure I’m feeling that virtuous, though.” You feel a flash of satisfaction at the way the tips of his ears turn red and return your focus to the menu in your hands. “The pulled-pork sandwich looks pretty good. I think I’ll go with that.”

Your waitress reappears a few moments later to take your orders --a grilled chicken and veggie sandwich with a fresh fruit side for him and a pulled pork sandwich and fries for you. She takes the menus and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Piotr takes your hands in his, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles. “You look adorable today,  _myshka_.”

You duck your head, smiling bashfully. “Thanks. You’re looking good as well --though that’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

His cheeks flush to a lovely rosy color. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yeah. I really am. This has been really great; it’s nice that we don’t have to worry about Wade ambushing us.”

“ _Da_.” He hesitates --his cheeks flush darker, which looks surprisingly good on him--then gives you a shy, hopeful look. “I want... to do more of this. A lot more.”

A rush of exhilaration runs through you, and you can’t help your excited smile. “Are you saying you want this --us--to be long term?”

“ _Da_. I do.”

“I like the sound of that. I really,  _really_  like the sound of that.”

His returning smile is soft and pleased beyond all compare.

 

* * *

Lunch passes quickly --too quickly for your taste. It’s largely dominated by conversation, with occasional comfortable pauses. The two of you talk about your hopes and dreams, your opinions about the world around you, what you want for your futures...

It’s nice. You can’t remember the last time you were able to just spend time with him like this and be.

Whenever the conversation lulls for too long, you ask him to tell you about Russia. He obliges, happily, telling you about the farm he grew up on, his parents, and his sister.

Eventually, he’s covering the bill --upon his insistence, because he can’t not be a gentleman--and you realize that lunch is done and that your date time is quickly coming to a close. As you leave the restaurant, you beg him to show around the town for just a little longer --and he obliges you with literally no resistance whatsoever.

It’s sweet, and you love him for it, but you also have the distinct sense that he’s going to end up creating a bit of a monster out of you.

Towards the end of your stroll around the town, your attention’s snatched away by the distinct, sweet smell of sugar and chocolate. You whip your head around, searching for the source of the heavenly scent, and spy a small confections shop on the opposite corner. “There’s a candy store!” You swoon dramatically, leaning against Piotr as you press your hand against your forehead. “Suddenly, I feel faint! I think it can only be remedied by mass quantities of sugar and chocolate!”

He chuckles as he nudges you upright. “Would you like to go get something?”

“Yes... or, as you would say,  _da_.”

He escorts you across the seat, looking both ways before the two of you cross --because safety, and, to be fair, you probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t here. He gets the door for you --again, gentleman--and ushers you inside as a bell dings above your heads.

The inside of the shop is light, airy, and decorated in pastels. The far wall is lined with shelves of containers filled with novelty candies --gummy worms, jelly beans, taffies, and the like. Tables loaded with different pastries and treats dot the shop floor. The counter boasts an extensive display case holding dozens of different chocolate treats --and an ice cream cooler, which looks seriously tempting.

A middle aged woman dressed in a mint green polo and a black apron smiles at the two of you. “Hi! What brings you in?”

“My girlfriend wanted to check the shop out,” Piotr says with a smile.

“It was a matter of life and death, Piotr,” You insist cheekily. “I could’ve fainted! Or died!”

The woman chuckles. “Well, we’ve got a great selection of chocolates, candies, and pastries, along with our ice cream that we make in store. My name’s Melody; let me know if I can help you with anything.”

Piotr thanks Melody, but you’re already eyeing your options. You squeeze his hand to get his attention. “Can I get one of everything?”

“Uh, no,” he says with a laugh. “I didn’t bring that much cash with me.”

“I was kidding... mostly.”

The two of you amble around the shop --you because you’re taking your time to seriously evaluate your choices, Piotr because he’s content to follow you and finds your depth of concentration amusing.

Eventually, you decide that you want chocolate and you skip over to the display case.

It doesn’t do much to simplify your decision making process. There have to be at least fifty different types of chocolates in the case.

You smile at Melody. “So, what’s good?”

“Well, the obvious answer is ‘everything,’ but it really depends on your tastes. What do you normally like? Are you a purist, do you like a little crunch, are you a fan of chocolate a fruit combos...”

Your cheery smile dims slightly. Despite his best efforts, this was one area of food Wade hadn’t thoroughly indoctrinated you in. You honestly have no idea what you ought to like, but this seems like something that any normal person  _would_  have opinions on. “Uh... I don’t know, actually.” At Melody’s politely confused look, you ad-lib a little lie. “My parents were, uh, health nuts. They didn’t let me have chocolate growing up.”

“Gotcha,” Melody says. “Well, in that case, I’d recommend a covered fruit option; they’re not as rich as some of our other options, so you’re less likely to feel sick after eating ‘em.”

Piotr’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back as she goes through the options --a small but reassuring pressure; he knows how much talking about your parents bothers you. He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arm around your shoulders when you lean against him.

“So, do any of those strike your fancy?”

“Uh...” You peer at the trays of chocolate covered fruits. “I’d like to try... the chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Excellent. It’s one for $3.75 or four for $5.00.”

You smile up at Piotr. “Can I get four?”

“ _Da_ ,” he murmurs as he kisses your temple. After a little good-natured pestering from you, he also asks for some fudge for himself.

You give him a mock --well, partially mock--incredulous look as Melody packages your orders. “Fudge? I would’ve thought you would’ve gone for something healthy, like the fruit.” You puff out your chest and drop your voice as deep as it will go in a fairly horrible impression of him. “Nutrition is important. Pizza is not breakfast food. Cheetos are not food in general.”

“It is guilty pleasure,” Piotr laughs as he pays for your treats. “And I don’t care what you say,  _moya lyubov’_. Cheetos cannot be food; they don’t even taste like cheese!”

“That’s not the point! The point is that they are crunchy and delicious!”

Piotr simply shakes his head, still smiling, and takes your hand as you leave the shop.

 

* * *

The two of you settle on a bench in the park you started your date in to eat your treats. Piotr hands you your box of chocolate covered strawberries --tied shut with a cute gold ribbon--and a napkin before setting his small box of fudge --and a napkin--in his lap.

You open your box and carefully pick up one of the berries. You study it for a moment, shrug, and bite in.

The chocolate casing shatters.

You let out a squeak and lift your hand up to catch the pieces of runaway chocolate. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“ _Da_.”

It takes a little fumbling, but you manage to stick most of the shards back to the strawberry. You carefully finish your first berry, trying to hold it ‘just so’ so that you don’t drop more chocolate on your skirt.

It’s delicious. Insanely so.

You let out a delighted moan as you start in to your next strawberry. “Where has this been my whole life?”

Piotr smiles as he watches you. “I take it you like them?”

“Oh, hell yeah. This is amazing. I’m going to punch Wade for not introducing these to me.” You take a moment to wipe your fingers on your napkin, then eye his box of fudge. “Mind if I try a bite of yours?”

“Sure.”

You take the chunk of fudge he offers you and --without much thought or consideration--pop the entire piece into your mouth.

A mistake --relatively speaking.

“Oh god,” you mumble around the fudge. “It’s so sweet.”

“That’s why I don’t get it too often.”

“Holy shit. I can actually feel the cavities forming.” You hold out one of your strawberries to him. “Do you want one?”

“No, but thank you,  _dorogaya moya_.”

“Okay. Your loss.”

The two of you finish your treats in relative silence. Well, you finish your strawberries, devouring them with the voracity of a starved velociraptor. Piotr eats  _maybe_  a quarter of his fudge, then neatly closes the box and tucks it back in the bag ‘for later,’ like a responsible person would.

He’s such a dad type, and you absolutely adore him for it.

“Do have anything on my face?” You ask as you pat around your mouth with the napkin.

“I think you’re good.” He stand and holds his hand out to you. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah --just hang on a minute.” You hop to your feet, pop up onto your tiptoes, and tug him down by his shirt to give him a kiss.

It’s undeniably perfect. His hands settle at your waist, pulling you in slightly. His lips are soft and warm --and taste a little like fudge, which is  _excellent_. Stack that with the overall glow you’re feeling from the date, and it’s the best damn kiss you’ve ever had.

 “I love you,” you murmur when the two of you part. “I really don’t want this to end.”

“I love you too,  _myshka_. But we should probably go.”

“I know,” You groan. “I’ve just really enjoyed today.”

He practically beams down at you. “I’m glad. I had good time as well.”

You bump your head against his chest. “I want to come here again. I really like it out here.”

“We can do that. Whenever you want.”

“Awesome.” You wrap your arms around his massive waist in a hug and let out a happy sigh when he reciprocates. “But, yeah, we should head back. If we stay out any longer, Wade’s gonna take it a sign to set something on fire.”

Piotr stiffens in your arms at and mutters something under his breath in Russian. “ _Da_. Not that I don’t love this --don’t love being here with you--but...  _da_. We should make sure Wade doesn’t burn down house.”

You giggle and take his hand as he heads back to the car.

 

* * *

The drive back to the mansion is too short for your tastes --not from him speeding, because Piotr would never, but just from being engrossed in conversation with him and just being captivated by him in general.

Your heart aches slightly as the mansion comes into sight, officially marking the end of your date.

“I can drop you off at door,” Piotr offers as he pulls up the drive.

“And miss out on the precious minutes of walk time from the garage to the mansion? I think not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yupp,” You answer, popping the ‘p.’ “To the garage, big guy!”

It only takes a couple of minutes to reach the garage, and less than that for Piotr to park and turn off the car, to your dismay. Before you’ve managed to collect your purse, he’s opening your door and helping you out of the car.

“Thanks for taking me out today. I had a great time.”

“My pleasure,  _dorogoy_.” And then he stoops down and presses his lips against yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared today. For one, it’s more passionate --he’s holding you closer, kissing your harder. It also lasts much longer, like he doesn’t want to part from you until he absolutely has to.

Eventually, as all things must, the kiss does end.

You’re panting slightly when he pulls back. “Now, that’s what I’d call a proper ‘end of date’ kiss.”

Piotr ducks his head and smiles, cheeks flushed a gorgeous rosy color. “We should go inside.”

You walk with him to the house, still indescribably giddy from your date and the kiss in the garage. You step through the back door --Piotr gets the door for you again--and into the kitchen--

Wade is perched precariously on the counter, lighter in one hand and bottle of vodka with a rag sticking out the top in the other.

“Wade! No!”

You watch, endlessly amused, as your boyfriend surges forward and disarms your best friend.

It’s amazing that this is your life now --a mix of wonderful and crazy that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

You laugh as Wade pouts at Piotr and decide to join the chaos.


End file.
